The Curse of the Seven-foot Sofa
by iHeartJimmyStewart
Summary: Ashley wakes up late on the morning of the barbeque. Just a silly little oneshot, and it's my first GWTW story. I hope to actually start writing serious GWTW fanfictions soon. :D Please read & review! :)


_**A/N: Hello everyone! So, this is my first GWTW fanfiction and I'm really excited! This is just sort of a fluffy, silly oneshot that I wrote. I have to say, I know Ashley is an idiot, but I love Leslie Howard unconditionally, so I'm kind of torn between liking him and not liking him. And Clark Gable? -swoons- I hope sooner or later I'll be able to write "serious" fanfics, because I'm kind of scared I won't be able to do Rhett justice.**_

_**So, anyway, please read and review! :)**_

Ashley Wilkes had done it again. He had managed to fall asleep in the library yet _again_, on his favorite seven-foot sofa. Under normal circumstances, he would make a hasty retreat from the library and try to make it look like he had slept in his bed all night long, but that particular morning was different. The Wilkes family was hosting a barbeque, and by all the clattering and shouting outside, everyone was busy getting ready.

Ashley let out a sigh as he peeled (at least, that was what it felt like to him) himself off the high-backed sofa, trying to ignore the stiffness in his body. It was a nice, warm morning, but that did little to raise his spirits. A leather-bound copy of _Ivanhoe _was resting on his chest all through the night, and as he got up, it fell on the carpeted ground, thankfully making no noise at all. He squinted at it with a good deal of annoyance as he bent down to pick it up and place it on the wooden end table. Now that Ashley thought about it, he could have waited to finish the book after all. He didn't get any reading done anyway, and all he had given himself was a good deal of trouble.

Why trouble? The darkies always gossiped about how odd the Wilkeses and the Hamiltons were, and it was quite unheard of for anyone in the County to regularly sleep in the library. The other families put up with him because he was good at things that mattered, like riding and poker, but only when he tried. Otherwise, they didn't care for his habits of trying to hide from reality. If it wasn't for the long-standing tradition of the Wilkeses marrying the Hamiltons, Ashley probably wouldn't be the first choice for many girls' fathers as a prospective son-in-law. He didn't care very much, of course. All he wanted was to escape from reality with books and art.

He often got so excited about a novel that he felt like he _must _find out what happened next. So he would retreat into the library. Then, he would overestimate his ability to stay awake, and after that, he would promise himself that he would stop after the end of the chapter. In fact, he fell asleep in the library three out of seven nights in a week.

It would have been much easier if he had just chosen to read in his own bedroom, but he felt like the library was his sanctuary. It was his escape from the world. The bookshelves that reached to the ceiling and the familiarity of it soothed him. Besides, Ashley fell asleep much too quickly in the bedroom. Those were the reasons he gave himself and others for continuing to read in the library at night, albeit not very good ones.

He let out another sigh as he made a feeble attempt to stretch, and rubbed his eyes. Ashley blinked rapidly, hoping that that would rouse him, although it did nothing of the sort. He looked down at his outfit, which was all wrinkled, and the feeling of frustration came over him once more. The bright sunlight was blinding, and he narrowed his gray irises against it as he stood there for a moment, thinking that he had the leisure of all the time in the world, since it was usually the case.

Then it struck Ashley that there was no time to lose if he was going to have the remotest chance of getting back to his room and making it look like he slept there all night. India had told Ashley over and over again that he ought to do his reading in his bedroom the night before, simply because he was going to be in the way of preparations and that he should be ready for the barbeque. Well, he was going to have to get out of the library, and quickly.

Ashley felt almost like a naughty schoolboy as he nervously unlocked the door. He insisted on it being locked because he hated being disturbed by anyone - darkie or otherwise - when reading. Leaning heavily against the large door, his gray gaze raked his surroundings, hoping that no one would see him in that state. He was in luck, as everyone seemed to have gone downstairs, and with that, he dashed towards his room. For the first time Ashley felt grateful that it was tucked away in a corner of the house, since it could only mean that few people had passed it and noticed that the door was open and the bed still made.

As soon as he reached his bedroom, he hastily closed the door and rushed over to his bed. It was comfortable and tempting, but Ashley couldn't stop to rest. That damned _Ivanhoe_. He respected books and everything like that, but he couldn't help scolding himself again and again for falling asleep on the couch. He hated rushing like that, because he was the kind of person that liked to take things slowly. The word "hurry" was simply not in his vocabulary.

He hastily unmade the bed and hoped that it was convincing enough for anyone who was just passing by. Ashley was warring with himself as to whether he would continue his long-standing habit of reading in the library, or whether to acknowledge that India had really been right all along. Then it struck him that it didn't quite matter after all. He was going to get married soon.

It had completely slipped Ashley's mind that his announcement to his cousin Melanie Hamilton was going to be announced that night. He had still been immersed in the Middle Ages, with Wilfrid and Robin Hood, and it was with some reluctance that he had emerged from that world. Ah, well. Did it really matter to him that he was going to get married? Melanie was like him. She would understand. And he thought - _thought _- that he loved her. He had never given those kinds of matters much attention anyway.

Ashley was perfectly content the way he was living. He wouldn't trade his place for anything in the world. Yes, there was all that talk about the war, but he just hoped that the North would make peace and that would be that. He didn't want war, although if he said that out loud many people would think he was a coward. Was he one? For wanting peace and avoiding needless bloodshed? Ashley Wilkes didn't think so. To each his own, that's what the philosophers always said.

He quickly made his way out of the room after just grabbing whatever he could from his closet, and amazingly, the clothes matched. The chocolate brown jacket and tan-colored pants and waistcoat went along well with the dark brown bowtie that he was hastening to tie with his left hand as he quickly ran a comb through his blonde hair with his free hand.

It was no secret that Ashley felt tired, and it was obvious even from his face, but he knew he was going to have to act like everything was normal. He would seek out Melanie - yes, Melanie was someone that he wouldn't mind talking to - and maybe, when no one was looking, he would try to have some coffee. After all, coffee always woke him up, and that was what he needed.

It was already terribly crowded, and Ashley smiled and said "good morning" to a few girls as they passed by, searching only for Melanie. He didn't want to deal with anyone else, not till he had woken up some more, and definitely not one of the boys, because all he would ever hear about was the impending war.

As Ashley descended the stairs, he caught sight of Scarlett, looking stunning in her hat and her green dress. And by the looks of it, she wanted to talk to him. Inwardly, he sighed. Well, there was no avoiding Scarlett when she wanted to talk to a person.

As he made his way towards her, putting a smile on his face as his manners as a gentleman demanded, Ashley supposed that the coffee would have to wait.


End file.
